


Death of a Bachelor

by zavocado



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zavocado/pseuds/zavocado
Summary: At 30, Blaine has everything he dreamed of as a teenager. Great friendships, starring roles on Broadway, all of his dreams except love. Then his older brother, Cooper, comes up with an insane new plan: a starring role on The Bachelor, the first gay bachelor looking for love. Klaine endgame. The Bachelor!AU. Rated M for later chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!
> 
> And after a helluva long absence from fandom and fanfic and LIFE, I am back with some new Klaine happenings. This story is basically a Klaine Meet via the television show The Bachelor. Not sure about the frequency of updates, and no, I have not forgotten about Owl Post. I'm currently rereading what I've written for that and I'm hoping to update in the next week or two :)
> 
> Anyway, for those Klainers still hanging around, enjoy!

**Chapter 1**

"You did _what_?"

"Come on, Blainey Squirt boy. It'll be fun!"

Blaine grimaced as his older brother rambled into his ear over the phone. Every week they tried to set up at least one time and day to chat and stay in touch with each other's lives, but Cooper, as always, had derailed that. It was six o'clock on a Thursday morning—Blaine's one day off this week.

"Look, I had a _blast_ when I was on _The Bachelorette_. Made a lot of friends, got to go all over the place on really fancy dates. It was _great_ for my image, too. That's how I got the recurring spot on _The Young and the Restless_. They're talking about making me a regular!"

"Didn't they kill you off last month?"

"That's not the point. Everyone comes back to life on those shows."

"… right. Look, I'm not doing it. They won't want a gay man and you know that."

"But they do!" Static crackled on Cooper's end and his rambunctious beagle began to yip in the background. "Hi, my noisy beagle. You're the _cutest_!"

Blaine groaned and pulled the phone away. He buried himself deeper into his blankets before bringing his phone back up to his ear.

"Your Uncle Blaine is silly. Yes, he is, Bernard."

"I can't believe you named that untrained beast Bernard."

As Cooper settled his dog another ripple of static filled the line. Something clattered and then Cooper's voice echoed from what sounded like the far side of his apartment.

"Just hear me out over breakfast, okay? I'm buying."

"Cooper, I'm not—"

"I'll take you to that pastry and crêpe place downtown."

Blaine rubbed his eyes and breathed deep. "Fine."

* * *

Lower Manhattan was one of Blaine's favorite and most hated places. The views were spectacular at the water's edge, the bustle of the city never quite found the time to sleep, but the traffic and the hordes of tourists stopped for pictures drove him nuts. Early spring was a throbbing landscape of new people, brilliant flashes of camera lights, and the shrieks of taxis barreling around, their bumpers in search of ill-placed knee caps.

Cooper met him as promised, in the glimmering front window of a favorite haunt: Petite Provence. Sunlight tossed bright shards of light onto their table as Cooper—late as ever—skidded into the restaurant, jacket over his shoulder.

"Squirt, best brother, greatest—"

"Shut up and hug me."

Blaine stood to embrace him. For a moment, things were simple—until Cooper dumped the looming weight of this crazy plan of his.

"So, they want to meet you next week—oh, coffee, thanks—and then go over schedules and—"

"Coop, I haven't even agreed to anything." Blaine stirred his medium drip with his biscotti. "The whole show is ludicrous. You can't find love like that. Not anything real or lasting."

"Says who? They do all sorts of compatibility tests to bring in their best candidates. To match people both to you _and_ to what you're looking for."

"They also hand out scripts unless I'm mistaken."

"They do not. It's more like improv."

Blaine huffed and crunched on a mouthful of biscotti. When he didn't answer, Cooper reached over and flicked his nose.

"Hey!"

"Don't be such a sourpuss." Cooper grinned at him, and very purposefully swooped his hair back. He flashed a dazzling smile at a pair of women a few tables over. "They know you're gay, and they're totally on board with it. Say the markets open for the first gay bachelor or whatever."

"My love life isn't a marketing campaign."

"Never said it was." Cooper downed half his coffee and smacked his lips. He squinted at Blaine through the sun-streaked light blazing through their window. "Look, they wanted me, but I'm not into all of that. Romance? Eh, I like playing it up on TV, but I'm a single kind of guy. I'm not looking for love. So I pitched them on _you_ with me as host—"

"Are you shitting me? That's a disaster in the making."

Their waiter appeared and while Cooper tested a new Australian accent on the poor man, Blaine glowered at him across the table. The whole idea was preposterous. Sure, he'd watched almost every season of the show. And, yes, he had cried right along with JoJo when Jordan had proposed few years ago. None of it was truly real love though. Not like what he'd always longed for. Almost every single one of those couples had broken up or divorced.

While they waited for their meals, Cooper talked Blaine through his pitch—fantastic island locations in the Caribbean, the chiseled abs and sharp jaws of his "man pool", even the tailored bow tie collection and the singing contest date. It all sounded nice, of course. A great party and a relaxing vacation from New York's rich, chaotic life, but…

"Coop, I'm glad you thought of me, really, but…" Blaine shrugged as he speared a roasted baby tomato with his fork. "I want to find _real_ love. I know I haven't had much luck, but I don't see how doing an over-produced television show is going to get better results."

"Yeah, I know. We can negotiate that," Cooper said. He waved his fork in the air and winked. "I had a serious talk about what you'd want if you agreed. I mean, they know who you are. Broadway sensation and whiz kid, Blaine Anderson, and they want to try something more organic. Apparently, ratings have been dropping because the show's too plotted out, too cartoony. What better way to have the first gay bachelor than to bring the show back into something more real?"

"I don't know."

"Please? I kind of already said you'd agreed to a meeting."

Blaine rolled his eyes. They didn't say much else while they ate. He'd followed the shows for years, ever since its first season back in middle school. His mother had adored it, too, for a while. Until everything had gotten too silly and scripted, but Blaine has still watched. Holed up in his bedroom, curled into his blankets with his bowl of popcorn. The idea of finding love so easily had dazzled him.

Yet fifteen years later, here he was. A wonderful career, dozens of close friends and good friends, too. But no husband. No long-term boyfriend, and lately not even dates. Not even the simplistic hope of love just around the corner lingered with him anymore. At thirty, Blaine had given up.

"I got it," Cooper said, scooping up the bill.

"You're the host?"

"We'll walk out if they don't agree to that. You need someone you're comfortable with."

"Meaning you?"

"I'm the greatest older brother you've got."

"And thankfully the only older brother I have."

Cooper tried to stab his hand with a fork. Blaine yanked his palm back.

"And you pitched a realistic version instead of the scripted stuff?"

"Again, we will walk out if they try to pull any rugs from under us."

"Right." Blaine pulled of his jacket as they left the restaurant. "I'll go."

Cooper whooped and thrust his fist into the air.

"I'm not saying I'll do it!"

"But it's a start! I'll go call them right now."

* * *

Cooper's idea of a meeting was unlike anything Blaine had sat through before. Not unless he counted a few brief Skype calls auditioning for a role in the West End's production of _Finding Neverland_. His three years in London had been a wild time. Cooper had never been more jealous than when he'd come back with six versions of a British accent.

They settled down in front of Cooper's desktop, and waited for the call to come through.

"They're in California?"

Cooper munched of his fish tacos and nodded. "Duh, it's TV. Not your fancy Broadway theatre."

"Right. And they definitely know I'm gay?"

Blaine waved off the offered taco as Cooper devoured a second one.

"Blainey, relax. Since when do you get nervous?"

"This is different than performing. I mean this is… if I do this, it's my real life. Real feelings, real people, real heartbreak."

Cooper set his third taco down. "We haven't even agreed yet, okay? Just relax, be yourself. All the stuff you're good at, Squirt."

"Right."

Blaine sat back out of view as the call came in. Cooper began the introductions and Blaine hitched up his cheery grin and listened. Adam Rivera and Chantelle Bricks were quite the pair. They walked Blaine through the running of the show, how each week would play out, expectations of him, and of course, what Cooper had mentioned—realistic, organic relationship development.

"We've been doing a bit of a reboot on how we're running the show," Chantelle said. "We're both new producers on the show, taking over after… well, after the previous group's ratings dropped. We want something more natural than what the show has become in recent years."

"And a more inclusive representation of love and couples."

"Hence the gay bachelor candidate," Blaine said.

"Bingo. Especially you, if we're being frank. You're a hot commodity in the Broadway world, Blaine. We couldn't have picked a more perfect bachelor if we'd dug through all of Hollywood's available men."

"Hey, now, I'm still pretty fantastic. We do share genes after all."

Everyone chuckled, but Blaine stopped first. All of this was weird. He wanted to believe in finding love in such a way, but he couldn't imagine it would ever work.

"So, what do you think so far, Blaine? You've been pretty quiet."

"It sounds like an adventure. Great locations and so forth, but…"

"He doesn't think it's possible to find love with it," Cooper said for him. At Blaine's glare, Cooper shrugged. "What? You have your doubts, even though you've watched it forever."

At Adam and Chantelle's looks, Blaine grinned a little. "Doesn't seem like it's ever worked out for anyone else. That's all. What's going to make it different for me?"

"Us, I hope," Adam said, gesturing to himself and Chantelle. "We want something authentic. This is _your_ story. Not a drama we're going to play out of TV. I'm sure we'll still have to bring in a crazy bachelor just to keep the executives happy, but we want good, honest guys for you to date. You deserve a real chance to find love."

Blaine still didn't believe it, but he nodded with Cooper. "What else do you need from me? Besides contracts, I'm sure."

"Well, we're bringing in some specialists on personalities, love, healthy relationships and compatibility. We're considering keeping a therapist on staff, too, for everyone who's involved. And we'll need to do photoshoots, TV spots, and then scheduling. Oh, and some interviews and questionnaires, so we can narrow down compatible guys for you."

They set up a date and time for an in-person meeting, talked briefly about Blaine's current schedule with musicals and jobs before saying their goodbyes. Cooper shut his desktop off and grinned at him.

"So yes?"

Blaine didn't smile back, but he was definitely considering the idea more now. Adam and Chantelle were nice, genuine. Their plans to reboot the show seemed promising, too. But still…

Blaine joined Cooper on the couch that evening, _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend_ playing in the background as they reviewed the schedule the producers had sent after the meeting. He hardly listened to what his brother said. He might find love—or the beginnings of it—before the year was out. After so many years of loving, of never being truly in love with another person, this could be a path to that chance. To that one person he believed was still out there for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another chapter! Although I'm afraid this is where the frequent updates will end. I'd already written this one out and posted it on Tumblr last week. So now we see how long this writing takes me… :P
> 
> Fingers crossed it's not too long.
> 
> Enjoy the start of a new week, everyone!

 

**Chapter 2**

"Rachel, just get your luggage."

Kurt Hummel leaned against a column by baggage claim five while Rachel Berry adjusted her sunglasses and huffed. She stamped her little foot as her hard-plastic magenta suitcase trudged past.

"I have people who _do_ this sort of thing for me in New York."

"This is an airport in Ohio."

After two more laps of her suitcase, Rachel made a big show of heaving it off the conveyor belt herself and pulling the handle out. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to Mercedes, who was in a giant purple sunhat and dark shades. She at least had a reason to disguise herself in public. Famous pop stars didn't wander around airports without someone trying to snap their picture. Rachel, however…

"Kurt, just take my bag. I need to be able to run if a fan spots me!"

She handed him the bag and Kurt let it smack to the floor.

"Come on, Mercedes, I'm not paying for another hour of parking."

Kurt led Mercedes out of the airport with her luggage, Rachel clattering and huffing along behind them. The drive back to Lima was full of their chatter. He listened to tales of Mercedes' latest tour and how Rachel's bratty attitude had impacted her recent audition for Broadway. Not for the first time, Kurt was grateful his stepbrother, Finn, had married someone else.

"Oh, did you hear they're doing a gay _Bachelor_?" Mercedes pinched Kurt's shoulder and laughed. "Someone new for you to drool over."

Rachel clapped her hands from the backseat. "It's Blaine!"

"Who?"

"The guy I did that off-Broadway show with a few years ago. He was the Tony to my Maria."

Kurt squinted at her in his rearview mirror. "Wasn't that the cocky guy who tried to give me his autograph in the bathroom?"

"No, that was Vincent. He was in _Grease_ with me. Blaine's a sweetheart. Jesse said _he'd_ date him if he wasn't straight. He's wonderful."

Mercedes chuckled. "I bet he's hot."

"I bet that show is faker than Mr. Schuester's new wig."

"Who?"

"Our old Glee teacher? Will Schuester."

"Oh, right. Gosh, I haven't thought about him in forever. How is he?"

"Balding and in denial. His oldest is going to be in my class next year."

Kurt fell out of the conversation after that. His cheer dimmed with their lofty career talk and the lives they'd built since high school graduation. The dreams they'd conquered that he'd let fall aside. After his dad's heart attack, his life had never quite been the same. Burt Hummel was still alive and well, but Kurt had devoted his time to his dad's health. To the prostate cancer Burt had gotten only a few years later, and to the resigned idea that Lima, Ohio was the only home Kurt would ever find.

"So, how's McKinley these days?" Mercedes asked as they pulled into their oldest classic eatery—Breadstix. "They still have those awful slushies?"

"No, I finally got them banned from the cafeteria last year." Kurt shrugged as they were seated, cast his eyes on the glamorous pair of them. They looked divine, more mature than the entire population of town. "We have an LGBTQ club now, too."

"That's awesome, Kurt. Is Coach Sylvester finally gone?"

"Actually, ladies, I'm right here."

Kurt groaned. Lima, for all of its farms and cows and downtrodden residents, had never quite given up on the cartoonish presence of Sue Sylvester. She towered over them in a sleek golden tracksuit with her surname stitched on one sleeve and a pair of black stripes from hip to ankle.

"Hello, Sue."

"Porcelain. Hobbit, Aretha Franklin."

Rachel glowered at her. "We aren't students anymore, _Sue_. We don't have to deal with your ridiculous—"

"Your petulant squealing is still as deafening as ever. It's no wonder they won't let you near a Broadway stage these days. Yes," Sue added at Rachel's slack jawed expression, "I make a habit of keeping up with your misery. It's a nice nightcap to begin my week."

Rachel scoffed and turned to Kurt and Mercedes for help. Kurt rolled his eyes and Mercedes sipped her water, determined to ignore their oldest adversary instead of falling prey like Rachel.

"Is there something we can help you with, Sue?"

Kurt aimed for polite with his usual subtle bite. Sue Sylvester wasn't exactly a friend. She'd been cruel for most of his time at McKinley High, as a student and now as a teacher. On rare occasions, she had jarring moments of kindness that were later eclipsed by her absurdity.

"I'm here to speak to you, Porcelain. Did you know they have a gay Rambo version of that dating show happening?"

" _The Bachelor?_ " Mercedes looked toward her then. "Are you going to bug him to sign up, too? 'Cause I'm spending at least _half_ of my visit doing that."

"I'm not auditioning—"

Sue cut him off. "One step ahead of you, Beyoncé. I signed him up."

"You did _what_?"

"Signed you up for a gay dating rom-com," Sue said. She waved a hand at his stammers and Rachel and Mercedes' baffled looks. "Sure, I forged a few signatures, made up a couple of wondrous talents for you to not understand when they ask. Oh, and as principal of McKinley, I hereby give you free leave to stay in paradise and be horny on a beach or cabin or wherever they send you."

And Sue walked off. Kurt stared after her, his face hot, his temper hotter. Rachel turned to him.

"Is she serious? She can't just sign you up for something like that, can she?"

* * *

A few weeks later, Kurt had his answer. On the last Friday in April, a letter arrived in his tiny apartment mailbox with congratulations on being accepted for _The Bachelor_. Kurt stared at the words in horror. He didn't need some pathetic dating show to reboot his love life. So what if he hadn't seriously dated anyone since college? Well, Walter semi-counted from two years ago, but he'd been much too old, already lived so many parts of a life that Kurt had only bare inklings of. He was busy. With classes and students and the clubs he ran; helping Carole with his dad and spending time with his tiny little nieces.

Kurt stuffed the letter into his messenger bag with the rest of his mail and the papers he needed to grade, and headed off to his parents' home across town. Friday Night Family Dinner was still as alive and well as it had been when he was a small boy. These days, however, their version of family had changed and grown. Finn's SUV was already parked when Kurt pulled in behind him. A loud squeal greeted him at the door.

"Uncle Kurt!"

Mabel slammed into his knees like a battering ram. She grinned up at him, all missing teeth and Finn's goofy smile.

"What's up, Maybe It's Maybelline?"

His niece pursed her lips and tried to flick his nose. "Ugh! Bend down so I can reach!"

Kurt laughed as he kneeled and had his nose tugged. "How's kindergarten going?"

"It's the bestest! I can read now!"

Mabel grabbed his hand in her tiny fingers and lead him down the well-worn carpet to the kitchen. The rest of the family was piled into the kitchen, Finn balancing his youngest on his shoulders, a blond-haired, drooling toddler. She clapped her hands the moment she saw Kurt and motioned toward him.

"Kur! Kur!"

"Hey, man."

Finn came over to hug him, and little Alice clutched onto Kurt's hair. She refused to let go until she'd been transferred to his shoulders. Kurt made his round for hugs and greetings with his littlest niece perched on his shoulders. He reached his dad last.

"Hey, bud."

Burt Hummel gave him a tight squeeze from his seat at the kitchen counter. He was thinner than he'd once been. Several years of chemotherapy had run the fat right off of him. His cancer was in remission these days, but Kurt still worried.

"How're you doing, Dad?"

"Can't complain." Burt squeezed his shoulder and gave him a once over, same as every week. "You doing okay? Ready for the summer?"

Kurt nodded as a reflex. He had no real plans for this summer. Helping at the local community theatre maybe. A trip to Lake Michigan or maybe to Sandusky. Nothing special. Not much fun could be had on a teacher's salary when he was shoveling rent out by himself. All of his friends had left and the other teachers all had their own kids to rally.

"You made any trip plans yet?" Carole asked. She took the seat next to Burt as Kurt sat down across from him, Alice bouncing on his shoulders. "Give me that grandbaby. How's my sweet Alice doing?"

Alice whined a bit as she was pulled away from Kurt, but she squealed happily as Carole tickled her. Kurt smiled at them. He adored his nieces, loved spending time with them whenever he got the chance. His own life plan still included the same rosy cheeks and toothless smiles, but he'd expected to at least be seriously dating someone at thirty. Yet here he was, another Friday Night Family Dinner. Another school year in Lima, Ohio. Another summer with no prospects of anything adventurous or thrilling.

Dinner was loud and messy. Alice tried to have a food fight with anyone who dared to look at her. Mabel insisted she was hungry for nothing besides ice cream. When they were finished, Finn hoisted the pair of them free of their booster seats and trampled upstairs for bath time. Miranda, Finn's wife, followed Kurt into the living room. She faceplanted into the cushions. Kurt settled beside her and pulled out his papers to be graded. His mail fluttered out all over the floor.

"Do you really have to be productive right now?" Miranda nudged her face against his hip and tugged at one of the blankets draped over the back of the couch.

"Grading now means enjoying my weekend."

"Ugh, fine."

"Here." Kurt pulled the blanket free and covered her with it. He bent to collect his scattered mail, but Burt beat him to it.

"Homeowner's insurance, huh? Oh, _and_ termite prevention?" Burt chuckled as he flipped through the envelopes. "Planning on buying a place and leaving us behind finally?"

"Of course not, Dad."

"Hmm, well you ought to. Come back to visit, but New York's still as alive as ever, I'm sure." Burt handed Kurt the stack. "You can't stay caged in Lima forever, kid."

"I'm not—"

"Oh ho! What's _this_?"

Miranda was holding another envelope and Kurt recognized the heart-dotted exclamation marks at once. His acceptance letter from _The Bachelor_.

"You're going to be the next bachelor?"

Kurt yanked the letter out of her hands. "Don't be ridiculous."

Burt settled down into his chair and frowned at him. "You mean that dating show? With the one guy and like thirty women? They doing an all-guy one now?"

"I don't know. _Sue_ signed me up. It's a stupid show. I'm not doing it."

Miranda stole the letter back and opened it. She darted over to Burt's side before Kurt could stop her.

"They're asking to schedule a video call, and they've got all sorts of information about dates and expectations, and who the bachelor is. Oh, damn, he's cute."

Burt read over some of the pages as Miranda waved the picture at Kurt. The man was handsome. Dark curls, hazel eyes, a charming smile. He had the sort of face that would have sent Kurt into fits as a teenager. Blaine, said the name beside the picture. Blaine Anderson. The very same guy that Rachel had said. Kurt scarcely remembered him from that one production he'd seen almost a decade ago.

"Sounds like a good way to spend the summer," Burt said after a few moments. He handed Kurt back the papers. "What? Don't give me that sour look. You get a free vacation and maybe you'll meet someone."

"Dad, it's all staged and pointless."

"How's a free vacation to California and maybe the Caribbean pointless? Go! Have some fun this summer. All the guys there are going to be into other guys, maybe you'll finally meet someone. Or decide to leave Ohio finally."

When Burt put it that way it was difficult to ignore the reality of it. When was the last time he'd gone out on a date? Or even gone to the rusty little gay bar on the outskirts of Lima? Years probably. He'd focused on everyone else in his life since college, said he was putting all of his dreams and goals on hold when he was really shelving them.

"I'll think about it," Kurt said. At Burt's frown, he added, "Dad, this isn't something to decide impulsively."

"When was the last time you did anything on an impulse, Kurt? Maybe it's time to start."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when the next update will be? Hopefully soon. Still trying to get back into a writing groove.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 3**

Blaine held up his three favorite bowties.

"Which one? Coop?" He turned to find his older brother sitting sideways in an armchair, legs bouncing in time with his phone's music. " _Cooper_ , stop playing _Candy Crush_ and help me pick a tie for tomorrow."

Cooper groaned, already dressed in a sharp navy blue suit. "Isn't this why you have a stylist?"

"It's why you do. You have no sense of dress at all. _Look_ at your socks!"

Blaine wagged his tongue like someone had just spread horseradish on it. Cooper pushed his pant legs up to reveal his lime green polka dot socks.

"What's wrong with these? They're fun!"

"Maybe for a sleepover or something."

"At least I wear socks."

Cooper flopped off his chair and tried to pinch Blaine's bare ankles. "Seriously, how do you not sweat-stink in your shoes within five minutes?"

Blaine ignored Cooper staring up the leg of his pants and dropped the bowties on his face. "Pink? Or red stripes or purple narwhals?"

Cooper stood and draped each tie over Blaine's shoulder one by one. "Let's go with pink. Sets off against the gray, and narwhals might be a little _too_ nerdy for first impressions."

"They'll find out soon enough."

Blaine set the ties aside and peeled his suit off. The curtains on the balcony doors fluttered in the warm California breeze. For almost two weeks, they'd been set up at their very own mansion where the show would begin. Every day was filled with a new itinerary. Walk throughs of his stylist's plans, dating schedules, lists of the men he would soon be meeting, where cameras were set up and on what occasions he would actually be followed by a live crew. For the most part, filming would be done by built-in devices, but a little bit would be handheld recorders from Cooper's perspective and his own. Not to mention all the behind-the-scenes interviews he'd already done for promotional purposes.

"Relax, Blaine." Cooper aimed one well-pointed finger at him from the floor. "You get to mean a bunch of hunky guys tomorrow."

"What if I can't remember all their names? Is it ruder to ask for someone's name multiple times or to call them the wrong name and get corrected?"

"Squirt, you're one of the friendliest, most personable people I've ever met. You'll be fine. And trust me, anyone who gets ticked off because you don't immediately remember their name when you're chatting up thirty guys at once, isn't someone you want to date."

"I guess that's true." Blaine pulled on his sweatpants and an old college shirt. He set his suit for tomorrow out on the ottoman at the foot of his bed. "What if they're all awful?"

Cooper stood up and dusted his suit jacket off. "We've already been over all of their profiles and information and they're all legitimate."

"They _say_ they are."

"Adam and Chantelle aren't going to play you like that," Cooper said. "Trust me. This is so different from what I did two years ago. They actually searched me out to ask me to be one of their guys. It was all about drama and hilarity and the spectacle. This is different. I promise."

"Stop pointing at me."

Cooper wagged his index finger in Blaine's face one final time. "You'll be fine. At least try to start believing in all of this before tomorrow, okay? I'm going to bed."

"See you in the morning."

Blaine shut the door behind his brother and locked it. He scanned his new room. A wall-length closet, open to the room. Suits of his own bringing, others from his stylist. An entire hanging rack of bowties lined the wall next to his bathroom door. The bed was an extravagant California king-sized ocean that swallowed him every night. The sheets were as smooth as water on his tongue and left him drowned. His first night here, he'd woken in a cold sweat, surrounding by too many inches of bed and not enough blankets.

He stepped out onto the balcony and leaned on the marble railing. Fading sunlight glittered on the distant ocean. Down below, the mansion's pool glowed from the industrial lights. He could just see the long driveway past the tree line hiding the pool from the road.

Thirty men arrived tomorrow. Thirty new faces, new voices, new personalities and lives. How was he ever going to figure out how to balance that? How could he possibly know enough about any of them after two days to send half of them home?

* * *

"Blainey-boo, wakey-wakey."

"Go 'way."

Cooper's hand shoved Blaine's pillows away from his face. "No way, little brother. Today's the day you meet lots of hunky men. Rise and shine."

Blaine groaned and glared at his brother through the sleep crusting his eyes. Then he spotted the camera in Cooper's hand.

"You are _not_ filming this!"

Cooper leaned around to check the back of the camera. "Uh, yeah, I am. The little record light is on and— _hey!_ "

Blaine snatched the camera away, then regretted it immediately as Cooper dove on top of him.

"Just turn it off!"

"No way, America needs to see all sides of its new Bachelor!"

"You _know_ how I feel about my hair in the morning."

Blaine grunted as they rolled off the bed. Cooper pinned him easily, hoisting the camera out of Blaine's reach, but still unmercifully directed at his face.

"Embrace your lovely curls." Cooper tried to point and nearly dropped the camera on Blaine's face. "Oops! Huh, I'm going to need an assistant or a selfie stick or something so I can point and film at the same time."

"Or a strait jacket." Blaine wriggled free and stood up. "And I'm fine with my curls. But I have the _worst_ bedhead."

"Really? Because I remember your hair in high school…"

" _Cooper_."

His brother hopped to his feet and darted across the room, out of Blaine's clumsy reach. Cooper aimed the camera at his own face.

"You just wait, America. I have _so_ many kid pictures to show you of this guy. He was a complete Gelmet in high school."

"You're the worst brother in the world. I hate you."

Cooper's entire face fell comically, still on camera. He recovered quick though, twisting the camera around to Blaine.

"That's not very nice. Tell America you're sorry."

"Get out before I tell _America_ the story of how I came into this world with a deep loathing for you."

After a few more minutes of quips and arguing, Cooper left Blaine to dress for the day. He took longer than he normally did. Showering for an extra twenty minutes to double wash his body and hair. Another ten minutes checking his face over, and then forty minutes to get his curls brushed and styled just right. His suit was last, still fresh from its washing yesterday morning. Pale gray, pinstriped with white. Blaine buttoned his collar and twisted his bowtie up with practiced ease.

He stared at himself in his mirror one last time.

"Here goes nothing, America. _Please_ don't let this be a shitshow."

* * *

Breakfast went well. Cooper made an ass of himself, trying to film and eat and dance around the table. He ended up knocking a glass bowl to the floor that shattered all over the room. After that, Blaine had a brief meeting with Adam and Chantelle, a quick touch up from his stylist, who gave him a charming smile and Cooper an exasperated frown. Then it was time to head down the drive to the circular entrance where each man would arrive over the course of the afternoon.

"So how're you feeling, little brother?" Cooper bobbed along beside him, dragging some poor camera person with him. "Anxious? Nervous? Horny?"

"Murderous." Blaine pinched Cooper's nose and received a sharp poke to the eye by Cooper's ever pointed finger. "Ouch!"

"You two are definitely hyping up the brotherly love, huh?" The camera person lowered her camera and adjusted a dial on the side. She was the only camera person who had spoken to Blaine so far. Tall, broad-shouldered with dark hair knotted into a bun that hung messy and loose from the back of her Dodgers cap.

"Rosa."

"Blaine. And blame him," Blaine said, trying and failing to keep the petulance from his voice. "I'm regretting letting you host, you know that?"

"All right, all right. I'll tone it down some."

Cooper tugged his suit jacket at the lapels and adjusted his collar. Blaine did the same as he took his place to greet each man.

"First should be here in ten minutes," Cooper said, his fingers pressed to his ear piece. "Hey, relax. If you sweat through that suit, nothing is going to hide it."

Blaine took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. Light colors had been stupid. At the rate he was perspiring, he'd be lucky not to stain the entire suit dark gray by the end of his meet and greets.

The first dozen men arrived over the course of the next hour. Blaine shook hands, accepted hugs, and felt a few flutters of excitement at the sharp jawlines, the handsome smiles.

Anthony, a bartender in downtown Manhattan.

Mario, a competitive skier from Italy.

And then, Colin, IT engineer and avid scuba diver, to round off the first hour. He exited his limo in a full scuba outfit, his flippers slapping the pavement. Cooper snickered and ducked behind the towering bushes that lined the circular drive. Blaine stared.

Then he stared some more. Full oxygen tank, breathing apparatus. He approached Blaine with the steady, artificial breaths of Darth Vader. Colin popped the mouthpiece from between his lips, and Blaine flushed when his eyes went right to them. To the plump fullness of this man's mouth and the cute dimples in his cheeks. He supposed that had been the point after all.

"Greetings. Name's Colin."

"Blaine. Nice to meet a Darth Vader enthusiast."

"Haha, yeah, aqua lungs have that reputation."

They said a few more words before Colin slapped his feet up the drive into the mansion. Cooper tumbled out of the bushes, howling. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Please, _please_ , tell me you got all of that on camera."

Their camera person—Rosa—grinned at him. "Damn right I did. He looks like a keeper."

"Shut up, both of you."

Cooper continued to snicker and make breathing apparatus noises that sounded more like a bad duck imitation. Blaine jabbed him in the ribs, very aware of Rosa's camera on them.

"Leave it, Coop. So he's a little eccentric. I bet he's still a wonderful guy. I'm not looking to date some chiseled robot."

"No, just a nerd."

"Considering you frequently call _me_ a nerd, it seems fitting."

"That's too much nerd for one couple."

Rosa turned her camera off for their short break. Blaine chatted baseball with her, while Cooper wandered around the bushes and driveway. His older brother had never been a sports fan, and while Blaine didn't enjoy baseball like college football, he took his time to enjoy it during football's off-season. Then it was back to welcoming "his men" as Cooper was now calling them.

"So that was number twenty-four." Cooper yawned and pressed his fingers to his ear. "Ugh, six more. I can't even remember that guy's name."

"Jeremiah."

Blaine followed the thick head of golden curls until he disappeared beyond the hedge of bushes. The second dozen had been better than the first if he was going on appearance alone. Jeremiah, a casual jock and baker named Dave, and a stage manager from Seattle. They took another quick break, and the last half dozen arrived almost at once.

Blaine greeted the first two men in a blur, then the third, a slender model, caught his attention. He was handsome of course, but it was the heat of his gaze at their eyes met that made a shiver run down Blaine's spine.

"Sebastian Smythe, it's wonderful to meet you."

"Blaine Anderson, you as well."

A moment passed between them as Sebastian shook his hand and moved toward the house. Blaine followed him with his eyes like he had Jeremiah. Cooper snickered and pinched his cheek.

"He seemed…"

"Saturated with pheromones?"

Rosa howled at Blaine's flush. Her and Cooper high-fived and Blaine groaned. The pair of them had only gotten worse as the day went on. He turned away from them for the next man—Alex, a tailor—and then the final two. A teacher named Kurt with short hair and impeccable dress sense, and then Xavier, a psychologist.

Blaine breathed deep and took a seat on the stone bench nearby. He was exhausted, his shirt stuck to him under his suit jacket, and Cooper was pulling out a tiny notebook and scribbling down a bunch of nonsense.

"So you made eyes with Curls, Pheromones—"

"You are not calling them that." Blaine elbowed Cooper as he joined Blaine on the bench. "Jeremiah and Sebastian."

"See? You're already learning their names."

Blaine snarled even as he smiled. "You're the worst. What's next again? My brain's more dehydrated than desert sand."

"Nothing really. The guys all get to settle in tonight, but tomorrow you get to do some meet and greets. One against ten, sounds just your speed."

Rosa had already shut her camera off as Chantelle appeared from inside the mansion. She beamed at Blaine and kissed his cheek.

"You're okay? Not too overwhelmed?"

"Tired, but fine. How are the, uh, guys?"

Chantelle laughed and led him along the driveway back toward the house. Above the main entrance, a few men stood talking on the balcony, eyeing the pair of them as they approached. Blaine blushed at the stares, baffled.

"You've made some good first impressions," Chantelle told him as she steered him through a side gate that led around to the garden and the pool behind the mansion. "A lot of chatter about your cute butt, according to Adam. So, any sparks? Any particular hunks of interest?"

"Uh, I wouldn't say _sparks_ , but definitely some attraction. I've never put much store on first impressions and looks alone."

Chantelle nodded. "Well, tomorrow you'll get to talk to them a little more, three groups of ten, okay? Then you'll have the night to think everything over and decide the next morning."

She'd steered him right to his own personal wing of the mansion. Blaine said his goodnights and returned to his room. He peeled his sweaty suit off, flung his damp shoes onto the balcony to dry in the cool evening air, and settled on his bed in a pair of pajama pants. All thirty new faces chased each other around in his head. Different shades of browns and blues and greens for eyes; dustings and blizzards of freckles on noses, upturned and hooked. Blaine dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed until he saw pops of light.

Cooper burst in, a tray of dinner in one hand and a stack of paper in the other.

"How you feeling, Squirt?"

Blaine shrugged. He couldn't explain any of what he felt right then. The exhaustion of meeting so many men, of realizing the expectations of each of them involved forming a deeper relationship with _him_. That all of these men thought he believed this process would work when he still didn't. How could he ever manage that with even a handful of them without feeling like he was betraying the others?

"Shut your brain up and eat."

Cooper forced him to sit up, and made airplane noises with the spoon until Blaine began to eat. The spaghetti helped for a few minutes, until Blaine realized the stack he'd thought were papers were actually photos of each man he'd just met.

"Coop, I'm not playing 'guess who' with you right now."

After twenty minutes of Cooper's desperate staring, however, Blaine caved. Cooper flipped through pictures with him, some with bright smiles, others with oil slicked hair and haughty gazes, another a homely photograph of one of his final men—Kurt, he thought—that looked like it had been taken from a high school year book.

"That's Kurt," Blaine said before Cooper could prompt him. "He didn't say too much."

Cooper's eyes flickered to the back of the photograph facing him. "Says here he's a high school teacher, avid theater junkie, and runs a Glee Club. Lives not too far from where we were in Ohio, I think. I'm not entirely sure where Lima is."

Blaine sighed and set the photograph down with the rest. He'd gotten most of their names, or at least been able to connect something about each man to a face. Kurt's smile beamed up at him, all lips and no teeth. His face was thin, but gentle. He stood out from most of the others with their scruffy jaws or trimmed beards. Yet Blaine couldn't recall anything about their brief meeting. Not the strength of Kurt's handshake, the tone or depth of his voice, even how tall he'd been.

Everyone had blurred into one huge tangled hydra man.

"Coop, do… do you really think this is going to work?"

If he'd wanted some reassurance, Cooper offered none. He shrugged like he was rolling his shoulders and grinned at Blaine.

"Bit late to be asking that question."

"I'm serious, no, come on. Do you think this will find me my dream guy?"

Cooper shrugged again. "Dream guy? Maybe. Do you really want that though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, do you want a dream? You want someone who's real and unexpected and just right for you. Dream guy isn't going to be that. Dream guy's a fantasy who does everything you want and never has any thought for himself. He's the kind of perfect that's everything you imagine and nothing you really want."

Blaine frowned but nodded. That was how they'd described his potential man, though. They had asked for a vision of his dream guy, and Blaine had fallen for that. This show was a fantasy—a desperate one to fulfill a country's lust of perfect couples and picturesque scenarios of falling in love with no worries.

"I'm here for a fantasy, aren't I?"

For the third time, Cooper shrugged. "You tell me. You've always been the hopeless romantic, but you've refused to believe any of this will ever work. You've got to decide what _you_ want out of this, not who, but what you're wanting for yourself. Everyone is here for _you_. If you came looking for a fling or a dream guy, I guarantee this place will help you convince yourself you've found it."

What did he want? Honesty without fear, vulnerability, a future he could plan with a man beyond these four months of planned activities.

"Right. Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, hello! Another chapter has arrived! I'm going to try my best to update weekly, probably mid-week, so I will hopefully see you next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

Kurt's room was the size of his entire apartment back in Lima, Ohio. He luxuriated on the bed most of his first night, calling his dad and Carole, then Rachel and Mercedes. Everyone was excited for him. Rachel insisted on asking if Blaine had asked about her, but of course he hadn't. Kurt had hardly said a word when they'd met. He hadn't really spoken to anyone else either.

Blaine had been kind with a gracious, charming smile.

Their host, and Blaine's brother, Cooper had been a sharp, ridiculous presence at Blaine's side.

The other men…

Well, Kurt was quite glad to have a room all to himself. He could hear several of them, out in the hall, laughing and carrying on. A few more seemed to have taken to the pool behind the mansion. Kurt squinted out of his window at them, chiseled torsos, tiny speedo swim suits. He saw more than his fair share of testicles, even from his third-floor window. For a moment, he wondered if Blaine had the same view; what he thought of these rowdy men determined to turn the pool into a late-night sex club.

Kurt glowered at them and shut his window. He'd made a mistake coming here, of course he had. Despite everyone's insistence that he'd get a relaxing vacation here, Kurt didn't bother to unpack. He and Blaine had said all of two sentences to each other. This was never going to last for him. The entire idea of it was ludicrous.

So what if Rachel still had fond memories of Blaine? What did it matter that she had told Kurt enough to know that he and Blaine had a lot of common interests? Did he really trust Rachel, Broadway brat extraordinaire, to give him a realistic run down on Blaine's character from eight years ago?

This was going to be as much of a shitshow as all the other seasons, despite everything he'd been told.

Yet, Kurt ignored his chances to get up and leave. He stretched out in his gigantic bed, slept later than he had in months, then joined the rest of the men for brunch around eleven the following morning. Meals were quite an affair. Kurt's appetite had never quite matched his brother's, even in high school, but unlike everyone else at this table, his had decided to slow down since then.

Kurt grabbed a banana and a bowl of cereal and milk, then took refuge in the corner as the rest of the men hooted and snatched up everything in sight. For a crowd of gay men, Kurt felt very much like he was back in the McKinley High locker room as a scrawny fifteen-year-old. Only a handful of them didn't fit into the jockey chic category Kurt had mentally thrown his fellow competitors in, and one of them joined Kurt at his tiny table away from the noise.

"Okay if I join you? I'm Oscar."

"Kurt. And please, I'd rescue everyone from that testosterone fest if I could."

Oscar smiled a crooked toothed grin. He was the smallest man in the group, several inches shorter than Kurt, stocky with distinct freckles and auburn hair. They bonded over Frosted Flakes and a shared love of blueberry muffins, the last two of which Oscar had managed to grab.

"Peyton Manning look-a-like over there nearly tore my arm off when he saw I'd grab these."

"Who?"

"Not a football fan? Peyton Manning's a football player. Damn good one, too."

Kurt nodded and finished his muffin. Oscar licked his lips and savored his last crumbs.

"I don't know how any of them have such perfect six packs with the way they're eating."

"Well, they work it off, don't they?"

A smooth voice behind them made both of them turn. This man was familiar to Kurt, although he couldn't figure out where he'd seen him before. Like Kurt, he was thin and tall, with brown coiffed hair and blue-green eyes. His smile, however, dazzled. Every inch of him brought Kurt back to his eighth-grade wishful fantasies when he'd hoped he'd grow into his looks and take on the stereotypical male look of his peers. He never had of course, and these days he was grateful for his own unique beauty.

"Sebastian Smythe," the man introduced himself. He shook Oscar's hand, then Kurt's. "So, who do you think will get the first solo date?"

"Not me," Oscar said at once. He shrugged at Sebastian's smirk. "What? I'm the quiet guy. I wait for the crowds to clear first."

"Meaning, if you survive tonight, then look out."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine, whoever he was, was not a conquest. No person should be viewed like that.

"What about you? Think you'll make the cut?"

Kurt stirred the milk remaining in his bowl and breathed deep to keep himself honest. "I'm just here for a vacation," he said. "If something more comes of that, then it does."

Sebastian squinted at him, eyes sharp and still lit with the judging laughter that never seemed to leave them.

"Right, well, good luck, boys. I will see you for some group dates, maybe next week, too, if you survive the bloodbath today."

"Bloodbath?"

Sebastian ignored the worry in Oscar's voice and left with the crowd of men stampeding outside to the gardens. Kurt returned his bowl to the sink, Oscar at his side. He was quite small, almost child-like in his size.

"Which group date are you part of?"

"Three."

Oscar frowned. "Damn, I'm in the first one. Well, good luck? I'll see you at the rose ceremony, I guess."

Kurt explored the house while the first two dates happened. They each went on for hours. He found a third-story view of the first one, spotted tiny Oscar sitting on the arm of a couch amongst the huge, chiseled men. Blaine looked small, too. He'd been a little shorter than Kurt, if he remembered that brief meeting right, but the entire group seemed to hunch over him like starving cavemen.

His own date was just after dinner, and it was clear the moment he entered the dining area who was still waiting to see Blaine. The cavemen were all sitting at a large table in a corner, drawn away from the enormous center table that had existed that morning. A smaller group occupied the reminding central table. Oscar was in their same corner, a pretty pink rose tucked into the button hole of his lapel. Kurt joined him instead of the whispering cavemen or the rowdy group taking over the remains of the once large center table.

"How was it?"

"Mostly awful," Oscar said, but he was beaming. He adjusted his rose. "I-I got the first impression rose? I mean, he sat around with all of us for a bit, but then he kind of walked with each of us, to give us all some time with him, and he just… he gave me the rose before we went back to the group."

Kurt smiled. "That's great." He glanced around the room at the cavemen, most of whom were glowering at Oscar in turn. Sebastian Smythe, however, was seated just out of the rowdy group's sphere, sporting his own pink rose. "Is he handing out one for every group date?"

Oscar glanced at Sebastian, too. "Must be. He wasn't in my group. Hey, maybe you'll get one for yours! God, I'm so glad I didn't have to wait all day. I'd have vomited from nerves at this point."

Kurt shrugged. "I'm not really expecting anything from all of this? Just a nice, paid for vacation that my teacher's salary can't afford."

"You're a teacher, too? No way! I teach kindergarten."

"High school for me. I like little kids, but… no way. I only want to deal with the screaming if they're family."

Oscar laughed. "Well, I ruled out all the kids who are potentially taller than me, so five-year-olds is my last option."

Kurt chuckled, too. They talked about their favorite subjects and then their students, before the call for the final date went out. Oscar wished him luck as Kurt left with the other nine men who, like himself, had wandered the mansion all day. They were led into a small room off the dining hall, given a brief repeat rundown of how the date would function, where cameras would be, and how long the date would last. Three hours seemed insane, but Kurt recalled Oscar's earlier words about Blaine walking with everyone individually for a few minutes.

The group set up in the garden, just off the pool. Kurt took a seat on the far side of the great curved couch. Everyone else chatted nervously before Blaine joined them. And what a sight he was, in mustard yellow, cuffed pants, a deep blue polo, and a striped red bow tie. He was adorable, in a decidedly un-Bachelor-like way. Not chiseled and buff and rugged and windswept like the Bachelors of the past. Blaine was… himself.

Kurt stayed where he was as the date began. Blaine sat in the center, hosting the conversation but never directing it into any particular topic. He let the men talk about what they wished, answered questions as they were posed. He was entirely, surprisingly, natural. Charming and easy. It unsettled Kurt a little, nagged in the back of his mind. This couldn't be real. Nobody could ooze charm as genuinely as Blaine did.

And yet… that smile was real. A little bashful or unsure at times, but Blaine was quite real. He mentioned musicals and plays he'd done, even the one with Rachel from years ago. The musical Kurt knew every detail of because Rachel hadn't shut up about it. Every piece of those stories were true and it eased Kurt better than a hot bath.

After the first hour, Blaine began to walk with each of them individually. Kurt wandered away from the group then, a little jittery but more exhausted than anything else. He circled the pool once, then followed a path into the trees when the other men joined him. After a while, Kurt settled on a bench along the tree lined path. The moon hovered overhead, a swollen tangerine globe.

"Coop, stop. No—"

"Blainey, just give the camera a roguish wink, okay? And maybe point your finger! That always works for me."

Just out of sight, Kurt listened to Cooper and Blaine arguing before one of them walked off. Blaine pushed through the tree branches just to Kurt's right and stared up at the sky.

"Why did I ever think this was a good idea?"

Kurt only stared. He couldn't ever imagine thinking becoming the Bachelor was a good idea. All those men fawning over you, fighting to impress you. People all over the country harassing you online or else digging into your entire life and wanting to marry you.

Blaine shook his head and began to pace, Kurt still unnoticed on the bench. He muttered to himself as he walked, his arms crossed over his chest, one delicate curl hanging down in front of his left eye.

"Might have been better without your obnoxious brother tagging along," Kurt said when Blaine still didn't see him. "I mean, he's charming and attractive, sure, but he's absolutely bonkers, too."

Blaine jumped. He twisted around to look at Kurt, who tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it.

"Oh… Kurt. You scared me, I didn't see you… sitting there. Sorry."

"No worries. I'm easy to miss amongst the cavemen crowd."

Blaine laughed, a little squeaky chuckle that seemed to rush out of him. "Yeah, they're… a little alarming, all standing around me. Feels like I'm inside a fort or something."

"Well, they definitely seem the type to want a dainty man to hoist up in their arms."

"I'm not dainty." Blaine grimaced, then resumed pacing, this time in front of Kurt. "I mean, I'm smaller, I know. Cooper leeched all the height out of our genes, but… I don't want a bear."

"Like a literal bear or the human version of a bear? Because it seems to be a very mixed crowd."

Blaine snorted. He paused in his pacing and then took a seat beside Kurt on the bench, not too close, but enough for the moonlight to reflect in his eyes.

"This was an insane idea," he said, and Kurt only nodded. "I'm—god, I'm a hopeless romantic, no shame with that, but I like it to be realistic, too. I'm not looking for like, Prince Charming or the Three Bears to my Goldilocks or whatever. I don't know why I'm telling you all this either."

Kurt shrugged. "It's fine. I'm only here for the vacation really. No offense. I don't think this show works like they pretend it does either."

"Really?"

Blaine didn't sound disappointed. If anything, he sounded relieved. He shook his head and laughed.

"I wanted to believe," Blaine said after a moment. "It's so easy to get caught up in the illusion. That love is quick and easy and everlasting without any long-term effort. I was obsessed with this show in high school, until I looked up how all of those couples were fairing."

Kurt nodded. "It's a nice dream. I-I was guilty of it too back then. Being the closeted kid in high school meant endless dreaming and not nearly enough reality."

"Yeah, high school was… something else. Well, I should get back."

Blaine cleared his throat and stood up. He adjusted his jacket, including the third little pink rose tucked into his button hole.

"So does this count as our solo lap around the garden?" Kurt stood as well. "I'm sure you're quite exhausted with walking these paths."

"Same loop, different guys." Blaine pulled the rose loose and held it out toward Kurt. "For you. First impression rose."

"And you're giving it to me?" Kurt stared at him, flabbergasted.

Blaine smiled and took a step forward. The moonlight glittered in his eyes, starry and bright. A nervous little twitch tugged at the left corner of his lips as he slipped the pink rose into Kurt's lapel.

"Of course I am. That's the most genuine conversation I've had since I got here. Including all the asinine things my brother keeps vomiting up." Blaine adjusted the rose a little and squeezed Kurt's shoulder. "Well, I'll see you for the rose ceremony tomorrow."

"Right, sure."

Kurt stood at his place in the garden for a long while, eyeing the pale little rose adorning his jacket. The men around the pool seemed to have started up some sort of strip tease performance. Several splashes and shouts of laughter finally made him move. He passed Cooper hovering in the bushes with binoculars and Blaine in the distance with one of the other men.

"Nice one," Cooper told him, pointing out the little rose.

Kurt shook his head. "Says the man hiding in a bush, spying on his brother's dates."

"Shhh, he'll hear you!"

Kurt left for his room. He took a long shower before bed and climbed into the silk sheets, his first pink rose delicate between his hands, hoping—as he'd never expected to—that it wouldn't be his last.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so starry-eyed over myself for actually keeping to my own updating schedule lol. Here I am, everyone, on time with this next chapter!
> 
> Until next week, enjoy!

 

"You never told me you had a teacher fetish."

"Cooper."

"I mean, I get it. Figures of authority and all that, but _please_ don't tell me you're, like, pining for that old wart Mr. Fishborne from Ashburn. I mean, did—"

"Cooper _Jay_ Anderson, if you mention that crush one more time, at any point while I am living, I will skin you down to the bone."

Blaine tugged his bowtie loose and tossed it into his hamper. Cooper frowned and raised his feet to put his shoes on the bed. As Blaine passed him, he knocked his brother's legs off his clean sheets.

"No shoes on the bed."

"Ugh, yes, _Dad._ "

Blaine went into his bathroom and shut the door. For a few minutes, he stared at his reflection, at the little curls starting to break free of his hair mousse and the dull amber of his eyes. Their usual sparkle was absent. A whirl of faces whipped through Blaine's mind, but he shut it down. What a day. A long, alarmingly exhausting day. Cooper would yank each little detail out of him when he went back into his room. He didn't need to do the same to himself beforehand.

Cooper was stripped down to his undershirt and boxers when Blaine returned from the bathroom.

"So two teachers, huh?"

"Is that _really_ how you're going to start tonight's interrogation?"

"Seems important. So, why them?"

Blaine groaned as Cooper forced him to side beside him. "They were nice. Honest. Not like that Todd guy. He spent all afternoon doing some muddled British-Australian-Scottish accent. I want guys who aren't trying to impress me."

"Well, there's certainly nothing impressive about teachers, I'll give you that."

Cooper settled down into the pillows, shoving them around and rumpling Blaine's neat bedding. At Blaine's glare he made a big show off ripping the pillowcase off of the plushest pillow.

"You're an ass. And there's plenty of impressive things about teachers. They survive hordes of kids just as terrible as you, for a start."

"Yeah, but they just… assign textbook chapters. They don't do much."

"Right. Remind me again who taught you math and how to read and write and argue?"

"That's… fine. But still."

"Look, Kurt and Oscar were both very nice and honest. They're not here to play games. And they're clearly good with kids or at least probably _like_ them if they're teachers."

"Oh, do I get to be Uncle Cooper when this is all over in four months?"

Blaine didn't answer. He stood up and paced the room, then pulled open the doors to the balcony. The pool was, thankfully, deserted. Half of last night had been a strip-tease pool party he hadn't really cared for.

"And what about your third guy… Stefan?"

"Sebastian."

Blaine frowned a little at the mention of his name. A heat had lingered between them during their brief walk, and like Kurt and Oscar, he had been quieter during the group date. Patience, waiting. Not in any hurry to impress or gain favor. Yet something about him, despite the immediate attraction, seemed off.

"Ah, the pretty boy model. His nose sucks."

Blaine snorted. "Not really interested in how well that part of his face sucks."

Cooper giggled and pinched Blaine's face. "Look at you, making blowjob jokes. I'm just _so_ proud."

"Whatever. Why are we talking about those three right now anyway? I've already decided to… keep them around? God, that sounds terrible." He shook his head. "It's the other twenty-seven that I've got to narrow down to a dozen. How is anyone supposed to manage that? It's insane. I hardly know any of them."

Cooper nodded and together they leaned on the balcony's banister. Twilight had fallen while he was in the shower. California's city lights weren't nearly as toxic to starlight as New York City, but he still couldn't make too many out.

"You remember when we were little and used to sit out back in that lopsided tree house Mom tried to build for my…sixth birthday?"

"Seventh. We had that one summer of it before I graduated and ran off to Hollywood. Spent all summer counting stars. Ohio's skies are nicer than this."

"You should see Nevada. The entire Milky Way lights up for you." Blaine rolled his shoulders and craned his neck back for the few flickering stars visible. "It kind of feels like that right now. Every face a star, that goes on and on forever. I keep looking and hoping I can figure out a finite number, but… I don't know. Doesn't seem possible that they all exist in their own little universes, but in mine, too."

Cooper said nothing for a long time. They gazed out at the pool, the rush of the ocean not far off, and the faded starlight dotting the sky.

"You're too deep for me, you know that? I hope those teachers like long, thoughtful conversations because that made my brain hurt."

"Shut up, I'm serious."

"I know. It's kind of weird. You're usually all smiles and sunshine, but ever since we got here…"

Blaine shrugged and looked away from Cooper's gaze. "I want to take this seriously. If I'm really looking to find someone here, then it can't be all about laughs."

"Shall we go through the pictures again? Have you name pros and cons of each guy and sort it out that way?"

When Blaine didn't answer, Cooper nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, come on. It's not like your entire life is riding on these decisions. It's just a chance at romance. Even if this doesn't work out, you've still got whoever's out there in the real world."

They spent the evening going through pictures again, sorting men into different piles and writing notes on the back of their photographs. It all seemed so mundane and silly to Blaine. One guy had a weird laugh; another a creepy smile. Each negative seemed like the strangest thing to make his decisions on, but what else did he really have after a handful of minutes with each man?

He went to bed, second-guessing himself until he fell asleep and then even more so in his dreams. Every man appeared in a cage at the zoo, most in their bathing suits they seemed overly fond of strutting around in. As Blaine walked through the rows, many of them crowded the bars, shouting out to him until their voices all blended together into unintelligible noise. His three already chosen were quiet though. Oscar waved gently, Kurt nodded as he passed, and Sebastian's space was empty besides a well-angled self-portrait. It's eyes seemed to follow him down the row…

Blaine woke with the dawn light, shivering. Every choice seemed the wrong one, yet his only way forward meant making mistakes.

* * *

Filming for his first rose ceremony took several hours. Everyone was tense, between takes and when the cameras were rolling. Nobody had ever remarked on the awkwardness of filming these scenes. About standing around for five, ten, twenty minutes with the same men you'd just been filmed rejecting. Or the hours afterward while everyone ate and those leaving, waited with their luggage in the front hall.

Blaine stayed in his tiny little wing of the mansion, watching the fading sunlight as a dozen limousines queued up in the driveway to collect the men he'd sent home. David, Alejandro, Marcus, and the rest. Names he could barely remember yesterday, and that he still couldn't today. His scuba guy was in the pool below, snorkeling for something Blaine couldn't make out.

Blaine watched him until darkness fell, then headed downstairs to meet with Chantelle and Adam for tomorrow's dates.

"Pick out your solo dates yet?"

Chantelle hugged him tight when he ignored her question. Adam, however, waved a few date cards at him.

"We really need names for this," he said. "I mean, we can't do your group date either until we know who you want to date solo."

Chantelle made Blaine side down across from them. "How about Sebastian? Or Jeremiah? The one with the wonderful hair?"

"I…I don't know. I can't believe I just sent a dozen guys I hardly know home."

Adam stared at him for a long time before he set the date cards aside. "Let's take a break for a day. Maybe two. Have you in to see the psychologist we brought on, just to give you someone to talk all of this out with. Put you at ease. She just got in a few hours ago, but I'll see if she'll talk with you tomorrow morning. Sound good?"

Blaine agreed.

* * *

The following morning, Blaine arrived outside of the psychologist's office in a part of the mansion he'd not yet explored. Cooper had tried to follow him when he'd heard they had a free day for him to visit the new psychologist. He'd been quite offended that their own chats weren't good enough for Blaine.

"But I'm your _brother_ ," Cooper had said, aiming his finger guns at Blaine over breakfast. "If you can't talk to me, she won't be any better."

"It's not talking that's my issue. It's getting any sort of intelligent response back from you."

Cooper's reaction had been as dramatic as Blaine had anticipated. Yet it did nothing to prepare him for the psychologist waiting for him. The door opened before Blaine could knock. A thin woman a little shorter than himself greeted him—not with a handshake, but with crossed arms and a sharp glance up and down his body.

"You're the hunky man-flesh they want America to drool over then?" She eyed his bare ankles and the polite smile Blaine almost let slip. "Well, you do have that adorable, All-American charm, I suppose. In."

Blaine followed behind her and took a seat on the couch she directed him toward. He tried to be friendly, but she wasn't having any of it.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm B—"

"Ah ah ah, I'm judging."

Blaine's grin slipped an inch and she nodded. She shook her dark hair out of her face and picked up a clipboard and a clicky pen. Both looked brand new.

"Dr. Lopez. I'm the psychologist on staff."

Something about those words made Blaine's neck itch. He eyed the walls of the room. Most of it was pre-decorated without the inhabitant's input, but Dr. Lopez had hung a few personal items that stood out. A crayon drawn degree and a signed high school Letterman jacket.

"So, Adam says you're having commitment issues."

Blaine startled. "What? No, I just feel, well, guilty, I guess, about sending guys home before I get to know them. Like, I'm judging—"

"On appearance instead of whatever else there is. Although, considering the bare ankles you're displaying right now…"

"Um. Well, I just… I guess some reassurance is what I need. Reminder that I'm not doing this to like…hurt people, but to try to find someone."

Dr. Lopez only stared at his ankles, clicking her pen and tapping it on her clipboard. Blaine glanced around the room again. He supposed it was silly to feel as bad and unsure as he did. He hardly knew any of these men, and the reverse was true, too. They didn't know him. And like himself, they understood what they'd signed up for. Yet his stomach still ached at the idea of crushing someone—of sending home someone who came here with starry eyes and that desperate old hope of finding true, everlasting love.

"Not a heart breaker then. Sue will like that." Dr. Lopez scribbled something on her clipboard. "So, Poindexter, you met any worthwhile Ohio hotties yet?"

"What?"

"You know, ultra-fem gays from Ohio. Similar to yourself."

Blaine faltered, his eyes falling on the crayon drawn degree again. "I'm not sure what you're asking…"

She wrote something else down, her eyes scrutinizing him over her clipboard.

"Are you, um…" Blaine faltered again, his eyes sill on the degree and the framed Letterman jacket. "Who exactly hired you for this?"

"Not important."

"I kind of think it is." Blaine stood up slowly and went to examine the two frames. A high school Letterman jacket, signed and framed, and that crayon drawn degree. "Did one of your kids draw this?"

Dr. Lopez didn't respond. She stood as well, a measuring tape in hand. She took no shame as she measured him from foot to curls and then around his waist.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Measuring for your wedding tux." Dr. Lopez tried again and Blaine batted her hands away and made for the door. "Well, I recommend you come back next week then. You need to trust yourself. Or me, actually. Go with your favorite guys, I say. The ones you've already given roses, too." She frowned at him and flipped her hair. "I'm sure I can point you in the right direction."

Blaine left without another word. Who in the world had hired Dr. Lopez? No way was she an actual, licensed psychologist with that demeanor. He at least understood his guilt now. Not with her help at all, but at least he had a direction to go in. That afternoon he returned to Chantelle's little office and picked out his solo dates for the week, hoping that he might actually make a decent decision if he only trusted himself instead of his fear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Better late than never, friends. For those who follow me on Tumblr you (hopefully) saw my post saying this update was going to be another week! Sorry for the delay. Real life's a pain in the butt sometimes. Buuut I'm still here, so enjoy the update!
> 
> A little side note, if I'm late on an update, you can shoot me a message on Tumblr or Twitter--I'm zavocado on both! My Twitter is going to look very dead, but I'm considering starting to post about updates (or delays) there since there's not real way to let everyone know on here!
> 
> Enjoy the update! I will aim for the middle of next week for chapter 7! :)

 

 

Over the following three days, Kurt spent a lot of time hanging out with Oscar, usually holed up in one of their rooms, or sipping mimosas on their balconies. They talked about their students in detail. From Oscar's paint-splattered five-year-olds who adored reading to Kurt's freshmen book haters, who all would gladly trade all of their textbooks for a pre-arranged naptime. They watched the other men parading around the pool and hot tub, cracking jokes and making up stories for each of their lives.

"I'm telling you, foot fetish," Oscar insisted, pointing out the same ginger-haired man who was slowly making his way around, offering foot massages to the rest of the men. "That's the second lap he's taken."

Kurt shook his head and chuckled. "Maybe. I'm sure he nearly creams himself over Blaine then. Always has his ankles out."

They both laughed and sipped their drinks. Kurt settled back into his lounge chair and let the Californian sun soak into him. Already he was starting to freckle. Hanging out with Oscar was pleasant. It was nice to have someone who loved kids as much as he did, but also _wasn't_ a kid. Or a colleague wanting to know when he was getting married.

"Oh, here he goes. Strutting around like an overgrown peacock again."

Kurt peered through the balcony's bars. Sebastian Smythe had appeared, slim and tone, with his booty shorts swimsuit and cocky grin.

"Bet he's a gold digger," Kurt said. "Or worse. Just here for the conquest and nothing else."

"Seems the type," Oscar said as he finished his mimosa. "Well, maybe not gold digger. Models probably make decent money."

"More than teachers do, I'm sure."

"Please, part-time retail pays more than teaching."

Kurt threw back the rest of his drink and yawned. He had no real plans for the day. The producers had him scheduled for a meeting with the on-site therapist, but otherwise, he had no dates or plans. Oscar, however, was dressed in a cute button down and khaki shorts. He looked every bit the part of a rich man's son.

"I look okay?"

"You look like you're about to board Daddy's yacht."

"Oh, well… "Oscar flushed. "I mean we're going sailing, and I've never been."

Kurt shrugged. "Neither have I, but you look cute and ready for it, okay? Relax, have fun."

"Right, okay. See you later!"

Oscar left. A few minutes later, Kurt spotted him and Blaine strolling down the driveway, hand-in-hand and smiling as they talked. A little hot spark rustled in Kurt's chest at the sight. Yet, he wasn't jealous. He hardly knew Blaine, and Oscar was a wonderful guy. He deserved this chance more than anyone else here as far as Kurt was concerned. Of everyone here, Oscar seemed to be the only one here for the right reasons and open to honesty and commitment. Kurt eyed Sebastian still turning heads as he walked around the pool. He headed back into his room and shut the balcony doors.

* * *

 

Kurt spent a leisurely afternoon lying in bed. He read one of the books he'd brought on his trip, wrote out new updates for some of his older lesson plans, and took a long, hot bath in the soaker tub that filled half his bathroom. All in all it was a wonderful, relaxing day.

At least until he headed down to the psychologist's new office on the ground floor. He'd been told nothing besides a name—Dr. Lopez—which hadn't immediately been noteworthy. Lopez was a common enough surname. It was even more common outside of his tiny, Ohio farm town. Yet, the moment Dr. Lopez opened her office door, Kurt was flabbergasted.

" _Santana_?"

She dragged him in by the sleeve, and shoved him into one of her plushy armchairs.

"Quiet, Lady. Someone will hear you."

She slammed the door with the force of a gunshot. One of the flowery pictures fell off the wall beside it. Kurt stared at her, from her slim body sporting her usual skin tight dress, down to her high-heeled boots. A devil in red, same as always.

"Since when are you a psychologist?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Since I needed to be. Or did you not see my new degree?"

Kurt eyed the framed drawing she pointed out. It was made on notebook paper with crayons.

"Last I saw of you was that television advert for douches." Kurt walked over to examine the framed jersey beside the crayon drawn degree. Santana's old McKinley Leatherman jacket, signed by Sue Sylvester. He was struck by a sudden, undoubtedly true, suspicion. " _Sue_ put you up to this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kurt glared at her, then flicked his finger against the framed fake degree. No glass, just a cheap, well-polished wooden frame.

"Your ex-wife draw this for you?"

Santana stared at him, but her dark eyes flickered. "The divorce hasn't gone through and it won't. Britt's just—you know what, Lady Lips? We're here to talk about you and that little dapper Hobbit you're pining over."

Kurt took a seat once more. "I'm not pining over Blaine," he said, and the statement was perfectly true. Blaine was sweet and interesting and kind, but Kurt wasn't experiencing anything more than a hopeful curiosity. Nothing like his hopeless college crushes—or worse, that heinous high school crush on his now stepbrother, Finn. "Let's just get this over with so I can go demand to know what Adam and Chantelle were _thinking_ by hiring a fraud."

"They adore me. Did you know Chantelle and I dated during college?"

"You never _went_ to college."

Santana shrugged. "Whatever. I'm the psychologist on staff and that's the end of it. They've got all of my real degrees and paperwork."

"That Sue doctored and God knows what else."

"Look, I'm here to make sure Blaine goes for you," Santana snapped. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms, a devilish little smirk on her lips. "I'm here to get you _laid_ , you gangly little elf."

Kurt bristled. "I'm not little. I've been taller than you since—"

"I'll just make a note of that here then," Santana said as she scribbled on her notepad. "Dapper Buck seems like he'll be a size queen, but it won't hurt to ask."

"Don't you _dare_."

"Or you'll what? French me to death?"

Kurt snarled at the career jab. He enjoyed being a French teacher. He liked kids well enough, and ninth graders weren't the worst of the pack usually, but somehow, when Santana said it like that, it only reminded him of failed dreams. Of everything he'd ever left behind or set aside to make sure his family was healthy and safe. Santana had always been able to get to him, as kids and teenagers and now adults.

"Although you aren't my type, and I really don't think anyone should have your pasty, dolphin tongue in their mouth."

"I'm reporting you." Kurt stood up and headed for the door. "I don't care what you think you're doing to help me or Blaine or whoever Sue set you up to ruin. Shit on me all you want, just leave Blaine alone. He came here for a reason—a genuine one, as far as I can tell. Don't ruin this for him by forcing me down his throat."

Santana's eyes lit up. "Oh, so he's expressed a passion for deep throating? I can work with that."

Kurt slammed the door in her face.

* * *

 

Neither Chantelle or Adam listened to him the following morning. Kurt got up especially early, ate alone, and then headed to their office. Adam eyed him suspiciously, but agreed to consider it. Chantelle laughed at his "theories", even showed him all of Santana's actual paperwork and real degrees. Every single document had Sue Sylvester's signature on it. Enraged and rather alarmed, Kurt headed back upstairs to change for his group date.

Oscar was out by the pool when Kurt returned to the main floor. Kurt joined him instead of dealing with the horde of people now eating breakfast.

"How was your date?"

Oscar tugged on his shirt sleeve several times before answering. "Kind of… wonderful? I don't know. Blaine's just really nice. And he doesn't care about…nevermind."

Kurt sat down beside him. Oscar was beaming in a muted sort of way. Like he wanted to smile so wide his face cracked open, but like he was also holding all the happiness inside so he didn't hurt himself.

"He seems pretty great," Kurt said. Oscar only nodded. "So did you guys just go sailing?"

"No. We did sailing and then dinner at this little bistro along the boardwalk. I've never been to California before, but Blaine's been out here for work and to visit his brother, so he knows some cool spots. He said he had a big surprise for the group date."

"Yeah? Bet it's a bowtie contest."

Oscar snorted, but two hours later, Kurt and the rest of the group date men found out just how close that guess was. Blaine had brought them all to a theater in the city. The theater was rather dim, lined with plush, velvet red seats and carpeted rows that angled down to the stage. A dark curtain blocked the stage from view.

Blaine stood before all of them, smiling with his usual charm and delight. A little ray of sunlight amongst the mountains of musky men. Kurt did his best to stand a few feet away from the others and ignore the cameras. Sebastian Smythe, much to his surprise, was part of the group as well.

"Good morning, guys! So I've got a real treat for you all today—or rather a treat for myself." Blaine grinned on cue at the camera, and really, it baffled Kurt how well he did that while still being the same genuine guy he always was. "As most of you are aware, I'm a performer. Broadway mostly, but I've done other productions and worked in other theaters and towns, too. I did a _lot_ of Glee Club singing back in high school and college, which leads us to…"

Blaine did a cute little spin toward the stage behind himself and the curtains rose.

"Karaoke!"

An array of microphones and instruments lined the stage. Blaine led the way up to center stage and waved his arms around. He was almost vibrating with excitement.

"A big thing for me is having someone I can musically jive with. Or sing flirty duets with while making dinner. Music is my biggest passion and I want someone I can express and share that with. So, everyone gets to pick a song and either sing with me—if you're up for the challenge—or serenade me, if you're feeling a little sexy. Instruments allowed, and go! Have fun!"

The rest of the men rushed forward. Half the cameras turned off then, but a few camera people began to stroll through the group and film song selections, trial runs on instruments, and general shenanigans as the muscly men tried to outdo each other on vocal runs. Kurt stayed rooted to the spot along with Sebastian. Everyone sounded hideous.

"A little tone deaf, this group," Sebastian said. He hovered at Kurt's side, all smiles and dark charm and confidence. "I think we're the odd men out. Good thing that's in our favor."

"What makes you think I can sing?"

"Please, Hummel, the way you talk in rhythm and measure your voice is a dead giveaway."

Sebastian began to flipped aimlessly through a stack of sheet music. Still unsure of him, but with nobody else to talk to, Kurt joined him. Blaine had begun to mingle, laughing along with the scuba diver guy Kurt always saw snorkeling in the pool. He busied himself with the sheet music, but he already had a handful of songs in his back pocket. The benefits of running McKinley's main Glee Club. Kurt watched the group and then Sebastian, who leaned back in his chair, calm as could be.

"Duet or serenade?"

Kurt stared at him. Sebastian asked again.

"I don't know."

"Serenade is the better route," Sebastian said at once. "It means all eyes on you, especially Blaine's. A chance to make him want you."

"Uh, no. I'll pass on that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. But you'll never win him like that."

"I'm not here to win anything."

Sebastian disappeared into the seats with his sheet music to practice. Most of the other men had scattered around the room as well. Kurt flipped through a few more pieces of sheet music until Blaine joined him.

"Found anything good yet?"

Kurt shrugged. "I teach my school's Glee Club, so I've already got a handful on ice."

"Really? That's amazing."

Blaine seemed genuinely interested as Kurt looked up at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and a little spark of something danced into Kurt's belly. Before it could fester, Kurt looked away. He couldn't get caught up in the spell of this place. Or in Blaine's uncontrollable charm. Everything about this experience was meant to convince him to fall in love outside of reality. Neither him or his life could live in such a place.

"Yeah, I do a lot of duet competitions with my students. Makes them better, to have each other to challenge. They placed second at Nationals last year."

Blaine smiled again. "Congratulations. I miss those days. Doing Glee competitions, school musicals. Everything was so simple back then." He sighed and shook his head. "So, duet or solo for you?"

"Duet," Kurt said. "If you think you can keep up."

Blaine's kind smile turned into an excited grin. "Going to challenge me, too? I think I've got you beat."

"Bring it on, Anderson. I can sing circles around you and your Broadway credits."

"Well, we're find out in twenty minutes. What am I singing with you?"

"You're the music expert. You'll find out when it's my turn."

Blaine laughed and stood up to go check on the other guys. "You better hope I'm as good as you think I am."

"I'm counting on it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm a week late again. I'm just going to go ahead and call it and say an update every two weeks lol. I might surprise as all, including myself, with once a week, but it seems unlikely.
> 
> Anyway, two songs mentioned in this chapter. The first is "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy", originally by Rod Stewart, but I'm thinking more of the Warblers version here. The second is "Hiding My Heart" by Adele. You can find both on YouTube! :)
> 
> So enjoy, have a good day and week and life! I'll be back in a few weeks with another update!

Death of a Bachelor

Chapter 7

Karaoke went about as well as Blaine had expected. Half of the guys couldn't sing. Most of them knew it, but a few—like Colin the scuba guy—were as tone deaf as lobsters. Blaine did his best to smile while Colin wailed out his shrieking rendition of a Beyoncé classic, but his ear drums throbbed and his eyes watered. A few other men were better. Jack, a businessman from central Texas, couldn't sing with much gusto or range, but he could carry a nice tune on guitar, and was rather charming with how nervous he was.

Blaine sang a duet with Roger, that ended in a round of applause for each of them. Roger, to his surprise, had once been a voice major in college, though he'd decided to pursue other, more lucrative, interests.

The two men Blaine was most interested in seeing perform, however, were also the last. Sebastian Smythe was second to last. Kurt Hummel remained off to the side, a little paler than usual. They both had some similar qualities, sharp wit, gorgeous smiles, lean builds and that same brown coiffed hair. Sebastian, however, was confidence stacked on confidence, with maybe just a small side of arrogance. Blaine couldn't figure out if he was playing a part, or playing a game, or simply playing him.

"Sebastian, you're up."

He strutted onto the stage, even inch of him relaxed. Music began to play, and Blaine faltered in his chair in the front row. Of course. He should have expected this from Sebastian, but the song was also embarrassing in its blunt honesty.

The rest of the men roared their approval. Cheering and laughter echoed behind Blaine.

_"Sugar… sugar…"_

From across the room, Blaine could hear Cooper whistling.

"Get it, boy!"

_"If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy, come on, sugar, let me know…"_

Embarassed as he was, Blaine was hypnotized, too. Sebastian could sing. He sung better than anyone else had today—not including himself. He worked the stage like he'd done this before. Nice slides, sharp dance moves, a strong voice and eyes that never left Blaine's. His gaze burned as he made his way across the stage and then down the stairs, singing the whole time.

_"If you really need me, just reach out and touch me…"_

Blaine swallowed. He didn't need him by any stretch of the imagination, but since when had romance or love or wanting someone ever really been about need? Sebastian made his way toward him, tantalizing and loose-limbed.

_"If you want my body."_

More cheering and applause. Sebastian hovered over him for a moment longer, breathing hard, his forehead damp, his eyes… they lured Blaine in. Dark green, magnetic. Yet, even when he began to surrender to the heat of that gaze, Blaine doubted. He couldn't explain why beyond the controlled lust he saw there. The clear, unshielded want that Sebastian had always been entirely too upfront about.

"That was…impressive, Sebastian."

Sebastian smiled at him, a little more human, a little less horny tiger, and kissed Blaine's hand.

"I love to give a good performance."

_And how far does that performance go?_

Blaine shook himself, but smiled back and gave Sebastian the same brief hug he'd given all of the men so far. A few attendants rearranged the stage as Sebastian joined the other men at the back. Kurt stepped out, a little shaky, but his jaw was firm, his eyes were set, not with heat or lust but determination.

One of the attendants brought Kurt a guitar, that he immediately offered to Blaine.

"Aw, is that my only part to play in this duet? Accompanist?"

Kurt smiled. A little of his nerves seemed to leak out of him. "No, but you're the one who insists he can do it all musically, so get strumming. If you think you can manage both?"

Several whoops sounded off stage. Blaine chuckled. "All right, smartass. Let's see what I've let you rope me into playing."

Kurt handed him the sheet music, a little tentative. Blaine scanned the title and several bars as Kurt bit his lip.

"If you don't know it, I have other options, too. We could do something that's Broadway instead. That's my usual go to, but—"

Blaine set the music on a stand and shook his head. "Kurt, this is great. I know it. I mean, who _doesn't_ know Adele?"

It was like a high-powered hose had just sprayed into his chest. Kurt laughed, a light, nervous little sound. Yet it was perhaps the most real Blaine had seen him so far. And that… that was the difference between Sebastian and Kurt. Between Sebastian and Oscar, too. Between Oscar and Kurt and all the other men. Neither of them tried to be anyone or anything they weren't. They were entirely themselves. They weren't here for a game like so many others. Not here to conquer him.

Blaine took a seat on the stool beside Kurt and began to strum. He'd played this before. One of his old Broadway castmates had been an endless shuffle of Adele covers. It was her only way to warm up, and somehow, he'd been roped into playing along every afternoon.

Kurt sat beside him, a gentle sway as Blaine played.

_"This is how the story went, I met someone by accident, who blew me away…"_

Kurt glanced at the men watching, and then at Blaine. His embarrassment was clear. Blaine couldn't fathom what he had to be bashful about, not with a voice like that. High, clear, delicate as he traversed the melody, soaring as he rose out of Blaine's range.

Kurt was mesmerizing. Entirely unsure of himself, of his voice's strength and his own stage presence. Blaine's fingers plucked on autopilot. Nobody else had brought any deep emotion to their song. Most of the men had barely managed to stumble through the lyrics of half-known songs they'd picked. Yet they were in harmony as Blaine joined him for the chorus:

_"I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known, you'll disappear one day,_

_So I spent my whole life hiding my heart away…"_

He was someone special; Blaine could see that much. More talented than himself by leaps and bounds. A hidden gem among a lot of jagged rocks and diamonds and rough stones. They sang the rest of the song together, trading a few words off here and there; in sync without effort, nudging each other along with encouraging smiles.

The rest of the group applauded when they finished, but a muteness had taken over the others. Blaine smiled as he did his end of the date on-camera chat, thanking all the guys, but he didn't miss the way most of them glanced in Kurt's direction. The worry in some of their gazes. The hesitation in some goodbye embraces, the firmer hugs from others.

Sebastian was one of the last to say his goodbyes. He kissed Blaine's cheek and gave him a gentle hug.

"Until next time, slugger."

Blaine watched him go. He couldn't shake his uncertainty, even now. Kurt hugged him as well, his smile hesitant.

"That was fun, yeah?"

Kurt agreed, shyer than he'd ever been. "Well, I'll see you at the rose ceremony then?"

Blaine nodded, his stomach dropping. Another rose ceremony; another night where all of his guys stood before him and waited to see if they would receive a rose from him or be sent home. Part of him had already made several of those decisions, but a few others…

He had more thinking to do. More wondering how such a set up could ever yield perfect results. Yet people weren't results or competitions or conquests. Blaine helped the camera crew pack up instead of following the men out.

* * *

 

"You already made your decision."

"What makes you say that?"

"Please, you're my baby brother. I know how to read your face."

Cooper pointed his pepper-speared fork at Blaine's face. They'd taken dinner in Blaine's suite instead of joining the men or the crew in the dining rooms. Blaine pushed the remains of his stuffed bell pepper around his plate. Outside the sun's heat burned the edges of the horizon. The ocean's tide pounded the beach in time with the thud of his heart.

"So what if I have?"

"And so fifteen becomes ten…" Cooper flicked a spoonful of rice at him.

"Hey!"

"Without consulting me." Cooper threw the spoon at him next. "I'm the host. We need to do some serious one-on-one interviews for all of this."

"I thought you said this journey was supposed to be authentic? And about me? Not you?"

"All true, but—"

"But authenticity is kind of a laugh in this situation. I'd never have thirty men fawning over me back in New York."

"No," Cooper agreed. "Just three hundred fanboys."

Blaine flushed, but still refused to meet his brother's gaze. Maybe he had had a lot of… interested parties back in New York. Some more viable than others. Yet nobody could manage his crazy Broadway schedule, or constant traveling for other opportunities—his marriage, in short, to the career he adored.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing, Coop. I really don't. I'm just picking the guys I like and that I think are honest and trustworthy."

"That's what I'd do," Cooper told him. "You've said from the beginning you're here to find someone who's real, who wants to try for an honest and open relationship. The only person who can decide who fits that criteria is you. Not me, not that new psychologist, not Adam and Chantelle. It's all on you."

Blaine pushed the rest of his dinner away. He was used to pressure and sudden changes and deadlines in his career—that was all part of show business, on and off Broadway. He'd never longed for the same in his personal life. His career offered more than enough.

"Do you think I made the right decision?"

"Which one?"

Cooper grinned and tried to playfully ruffle Blaine's hair, but Blaine leaned away.

"Aw, come on. Lighten up."

"Easy for you to say. I'm just… floundering here."

"You're not. I promise you're not." Cooper yanked his chair around the table until Blaine's view of the sunset became his brother's bulky torso. "I don't think anyone who's done this show, results faked or not, had an easy time of it. You're here getting to know people. You're searching for someone you could potentially spend the rest of your life with, romantically or platonically. Don't discount friends in all of this. Maybe there's no spark, but that doesn't mean you can't be great friends."

Cooper pointed his finger at Blaine and poked him on the nose. "You've got to open yourself up entirely for this to work, and that means a lot of uncomfortable feelings. Maybe a lot of heartache, too."

"Yeah, I know." Blaine sighed. "I guess it feels like I'm either taking too long to decide or not taking long enough. Like, this week, I knew who was leaving as soon as the group date was over."

"Well, you did hear most of the guys try to sing."

Blaine chuckled. "They did try, that's all I give them credit for."

"A few of them held their own."

"And a few knocked it out of the park."

"And they're the ones staying."

Blaine almost winced at the certainty in Cooper's voice. He was right though, and Blaine felt ridiculous and superficial for that being a good reason to turn so many men away.

"Seriously, B? You'd hate yourself if you married someone who isn't musically inclined."

"I know that!" Blaine turned away to hide his blush. "It just seems like such a ridiculous reason to turn someone away."

"For other people, maybe. But music is the centerpiece of your life. You've built a career around it. You need someone who understands and appreciates that."

Blaine sat up late into the night, long after Cooper dozed off on the bed, and well past the splash party in the pool below his balcony. Surrounded by people, torrents of them, and he'd never felt more alone. He skimmed through the men's pictures one final time, sorted each into the pile of who was staying and who wasn't. Sebastian's face grinned up at him last. Handsome, charming, a devilish smile that had never sat comfortably in Blaine's chest. A stage face.

Was it worth it to keep him around?

Could he trust this guy who seemed to live a life of pretend?

But didn't he do the same?

Blaine hesitated before setting Sebastian's face on top of the stack.


End file.
